The Fire-Laddie, Love

The door has a bolt. The window a grate. O friend we are trapped In the factory, Fate. The flames pierce the ceiling. The brands heap the floor. But listen, dear heart: A song at the door! The forcing of bolts, The hewing of oak! A sword breaks the lock With one cleaving stroke. Naked and fair Unscathed and wild Behold he comes swiftly, An elfin-eyed child. The fire-laddie, Love, Is our hero this night, As he walks on the embers His plumes are cloud white. He sings of the lightning And snow of desire, His step parts the veil Of the factory fire. Oh his chubby child hands, Oh his long curls agleam, From out their soft tossing Comes thunder and dream. Our fire-laddie, Love, At the last moment here, To bear us away To a road without fear, To the dark, to the wind, To the mist, to the dawn, Where the lilac blooms nod By the rain renewed lawn. To a land of deep knowledge Our tired feet are led, While the stars of new morning Still glint overhead. Sweet Love walks between us With silences long. His step is the music. The day is the song.